


This Means War

by winsister91



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Competitive back stabbing, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Implied Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:05:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winsister91/pseuds/winsister91
Summary: Reader and Dean have a bet on who can pick up the most people at the bar and things get competitive.





	This Means War

"The next time Sam says ‘ _ooh it’s a simple ghost haunting, you guys can handle it_ ’, remind me to hit him in the face with a brick,” you groan, throwing yourself onto one of the motel beds.

“Noted,” Dean grunts as he copies you. You’re both covered head to toe in black goopy ectoplasm and cut up to hell. It wasn’t as simple as Sam thought but…well you _had_ both handled it.

“Aw man, now it’s all over the sheets,” you grimace as you sit up and see a perfectly black outline from where you’ve been laid, “Perfect.”

“Well, I’m getting a shower,” Dean announces getting to his feet, “Then we’re hitting the bar.”

“Ugh does it have to be  _we_?” you scoff, “Do I really have to sit and watch you hit on skanks all night?”

“They’re not  _all_ skanks,” Dean laughs, “And yes it is we. I need a wing-woman.”

You roll your eyes and drop back onto the bed.

“Why don’t you give it a go?” he asks with a wink.

“Excuse me?” you respond confused, heart skipping a beat at thought of him meaning what you think he might be.

“Let your hair down! Have some fun for once!” Dean shouts, “Relax, get drunk, hit on some guys! You’re hot, so I’m sure you’d be able to get a Sweetheart for the night!”

“Dean Winchester,” you raise a threatening eyebrow, trying to cover your heart sinking because he wasn’t on the same wavelength as you, “If I want to grab myself a honey, I do it on my own terms.”

“Spontaneity is a fine thing,” he grins.

“If we both pick someone up, we can’t exactly fetch them back here can we?” you argue, “Beds are ruined and we’re sharing a room for crying out loud!”

“Who says we got to fetch them here?” he shrugs, “Go back to their place.”

“Valid point…” you mumble, “Fine whatever. Be quick with that shower then, and don’t moan at me when I’m getting ready. It takes time to make this face beautiful.”

“I doubt that,” he smiles cheekily and shuts the bathroom door behind him.

* * *

You both enter the bar and you feel smoking. Just a simple tight black tee paired with skinny jeans and boots, but your eyeliner is so on point and hair stylishly tousled. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d put makeup on and gone out, what with all the hunts lately, but doing so tonight had given you a new found confidence. Or maybe it was the slight jaw drop from Dean when he saw you that had given you the boost. Nonetheless, you felt pretty damn good.

You stride to the bar, already noting a few eyes drift your way and sit yourself down on a barstool at the end. You order yourself some cheap cocktail, giving the cute bartender a seductive smile.

“Okay,” Dean sips on a beer next to you and scans the room, “Who are you introducing me to first?”

“Hold on there Casanova,” you laugh, “If I’m on my own prowl tonight, I can’t be your  _wing-woman_ at the same time.”

“You’re gonna leave me to fend for myself?” Dean looks slightly hurt, “Fine. I can handle myself. Don’t you wanna be going out there  _prowling_?”

“No need,” You give a cocky smirk, “All I gotta do is sit here, and they’ll come to me, Baby.”

“Yeah sure okay,” Dean laughs, “Let’s see how that goes for ya. I betcha I can pull at least three chicks by the time someone mans up and comes over to you.”

“How much?” you ask, still smirking.

“What?”

“How much do you wanna bet?”

“Ugh…I dunno, ten bucks?”

“C'mon more interesting than money! I say…whoever gets the most people’s numbers tonight doesn’t have to drive with a hangover tomorrow.”

Dean looks you up and down with an expression of shock, “I uh…wasn’t expecting you to be so laid back and  _candid_ about trying to pick people up.”

“Well you were right,” you bite your lip as the bartender catches your eye again, “Maybe I  _should_ let my hair down and have some fun for once.”

Dean shoots the bartender a glare, before rolling his shoulders and heading out into the 'playing field’. You narrow your eyes whilst you observe him head up to one of his typical candidates. She may as well have just come out in her underwear there was so much skin on show, and her heels are so high they were like stilts. Each to their own you guess. You feel that awfully familiar pit form in your stomach as he leans in to whisper some sweet nothings. You get this feeling whenever you see him hitting on someone but you don’t allow yourself to acknowledge it. Tonight is your time to shine, and you will  _not_ lose this bet. A loud smacking sound comes from Dean’s direction, from the slap he just received from stilts girl. You can’t help yourself but burst into laughter, promptly stopping when he shoots a warning glare in your direction.

“Another?” the bartender asks as you finish your cocktail.

“Hmm it was a little sweet for me, what would you recommend?” You lean on the bar with a lone finger playing with your hair.

“I’m a rum and coke guy myself,” he answers, taking your empty glass.

“Rum and coke it is then,” you smile, biting your lip as you flutter your eyes at him. He smiles back as he fetches you your drink.

“So uh…what time do you get off?” you ask, deciding to just dive straight in. You were adamant not to drive in the morning.

The guy laughs, “You’re straight to the point!”

“Have to be when presented with fine specimens like yourself,” you giggle, noticing Dean re-approaching for a new beer, “C'mon, humour me.”

“Well… my _husband_ picks me up at about eleven,” the bartender answers with a look of sympathy.

“Oh…” your face drops and you feel your cheeks turn hot from blushing.

“Sorry to disappoint hun,” the bartender pats you on the head like a child and turns to tend to his other patrons.

“Haha!” Dean laughs when the guy is out of earshot and elbows you, “So that’s one to me and nil to you?”

“What?” you quickly spin around to face the Winchester and he presents a napkin with some number scrawled on it in lipstick, “Aw, crap.”

* * *

Sometime later you’re at a draw with three all. Your new tactic of hanging around the pool table with a group of guys and joining in their own little tournament was also working out marvellously. Dean had taken your spot at the bar, introducing himself to ladies innocently buying a drink and giving them his full-on charm offence.

Despite the attention from the pool table hunks, your eyes consistently drifted in Dean’s direction. You could have sworn you caught his eyes on you a number of times. That pit in your guts refuses to shift.

On your way back from a bathroom trip, you spot Dean talking to your hunks.

“I mean, _gold digger_. Completely. My friend woke up and she was gone as well as his phone and wallet,” you catch him saying to them.

“Wait, what!?” you squeal as your new friends make a hasty retreat, “Dean!?”

“What?” he laughs, “The betting rules never stipulated interference.”

“You son of a-” you start before taking a breath to compose yourself, “Fine. _This means war_.”

* * *

**Round 1**

You skulk up to the blonde Dean has been chatting up just as he goes to the bar to grab them both a drink.  
“Hey,” you whisper and the girl turns to you puzzled, “My sister hooked up with that guy a week or so ago.  _Crabs._ ”

 

Dean approaches while you dance with a baby-faced cutie.  
“Again?” he says, pulling out his fake FBI ID, “I’ll let you off this night Miss Spankalot, but I catch you in here looking for  _customers_ again _,_ I’ll have to take you in.”

 

**Round 2**

You run up and slap Dean amongst a group of girls on their hen night.  
“You  _bastard!_ ” You cry overdramatically, “You’re _other wife_ just called to tell you she’s pregnant! With triplets!”

 

“She’s loopy that one,” Dean mumbles to your next victim, “I heard she pokes holes in condoms and goes crazy screaming you’ll be the  _perfect happy family_.”

 

**Round 3**

****Dean wanders over to the guy eyeing you up. You watch as he points at you and lip read him saying, “Has a penis.”

 

You make eye contact over Dean’s shoulder to the brunette he’s charming. You lean forward, nodding your head towards Dean and announcing, “ _Micro_ -penis.”

* * *

  
“Okay okay enough,” Dean sulks sat at a table with you while you chuckle, “Screw the bet.”

“You  _really_ don’t like the taste of your own medicine do you?” you giggle. It’s getting late and the bar is slowly emptying, “It’s a draw anyway so no one wins. I’ll get us another drink before this place shuts.”

You head on over, noticing the old blush-inducing bartender had left and swapped for an upgrade. He eyes you up and down with a sly smirk as you approach.

“What can I get you hot stuff?” he asks with a lick of his upper lip.

“One beer and hmm…I’m not sure what I want…” you pout slightly, tilting your head at the pile of cute stood before you.

“How about a….sex on the beach?” he suggests with a wink.

You continue chatting with him, causing other customers to complain about their lack of service. You feel yourself flirting but again your eyes frequently drift back to the Winchester. He’s still sat at the table, watching the bartender with narrowed eyes, he hadn’t spoken to any other girls since you left him there. You daydream, absorbing those olive green orbs of his you loved so much. The pouting lips just begging to be kissed. How warm and cosy it must be snuggling up with those strong arms wrapped around you.

“You listening sugar?” you hear the gruff bartender’s voice interrupts your Dean fantasy.

“Oh!” you shuffle in your seat awkwardly, “Sorry I uh…I think I should go.”

You go to move but a calloused hand sticks your arm to the bar.

“But we’re just getting started here,” he says with a sly smile.

“You really don’t wanna do that,” you snap into hunter mode and glare him down.

“Yeah you really don’t,” came Dean’s voice, now stood next to you.

The bartender’s eyes dot between the two of you for a moment. He sighs and lifts his hand off you.

“Whatever,” he shrugs and walks away.

In a second you feel your other arm being tugged. Dean pulls you towards the exit and you both leave. He lets go of you outside the door and starts pacing back and forth.

“Dean what the hell?” you raise your arms and look at him bewildered.

“Y/N…” he starts, still pacing and then just sighs.

“Dean what’s wrong?” you grab his arm to stop him pacing.

He looks at you in the eyes, a slight frown on his face.

“Screw it,” he mumbles, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into a deep kiss.

Your heart leaps up to your throat and feels like it’s going at a thousand beats a second. You can feel your cheeks burning and your hands slightly clench in shock. His lips are better than you imagined, soft and full and there’s a slight beer taste which you find oddly pleasurable.

He lets you go and you gasp, “D-Dean…”

“I’m sorry I just… tonight was a stupid idea,” he stumbles on his words, “Seeing you flirt with all those guys drove me fucking crazy.”

“Um…” you laugh, holding your chest like it’ll help your heart slow down, “That was  _your_ idea?”

“Yeah, a stupid one like I said,” he sighs. His hands are still around your waist and you can feel him pulling you close again, “I just thought you’d want someone better than me.”

“Now  _that’s_ a stupid idea,” you laugh, now pulling him back and starting a kiss on your own terms.

You wrap an arm around his neck and one through his hair, pulling it lightly. He clenches your ass and moans into your mouth, sending tingles through you.

Another release and your foreheads are touching. You catch him smiling and it makes you do the same.

“Motel?” you wink.

“Hell yes,” Dean agrees, “I just hope they’ll give us some new sheets at reception first.”

**Author's Note:**

> I remember I was originally gonna write smut for this one... I was also nursing a hella bad wisdom tooth surgery, so I guess I chickened out of it.
> 
> Still an old fav of mine, it was written simply to cheer myself up.


End file.
